


Mods

by DF221BA



Category: Original Work
Genre: Addiction, Body Modification, F/F, Not a lot of dialogue, Self-Esteem Issues, futuristic body modification fused with plastic surgery, plastic surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1270450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DF221BA/pseuds/DF221BA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you change a part of you, what would you choose? </p><p>It's the future, and now there's more to body modification and plastic surgery: they've been fused. With the new technology, there are more options open to the public than ever before. People start getting cheetah spotted skin and cat ears. Claws in place of their nails. Scales. Pulse tattoos.</p><p>Those that collect these modifications are called the Mods. </p><p>I had just turned sixteen the first time I got a mod. A late start, but my father had just gotten a new position in his job and suddenly we were practically swimming in money. It was just something simple: an operation that was good for beginners, the doctors had told me. And it was, in all honesty, and I loved the results. My new nose was less angular than my old one had been, smaller and more girl-like with a slight upturn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mods

**Author's Note:**

> So I have a habit of coming up with ideas for stories and making prompts out of them, then save them to my laptop and forget about them. I guess this was kind of a fill for one of my own prompts? The first of many probably. 
> 
> Anyways, I like it and I'm pretty proud of it. If you guys want more, I'd most likely be happy to make it, so let me know. 
> 
> Enjoy!

If you change a part of you, what would you choose? 

I had just turned sixteen the first time I got a mod. A late start, but my father had just gotten a new position in his job and suddenly we were practically swimming in money. It was just something simple: an operation that was good for beginners, the doctors had told me. And it was, in all honesty, and I loved the results. My new nose was less angular than my old one had been, smaller and more girl-like with a slight upturn. I smiled at myself in the mirror afterwards, turning my head this way and that. Then I noticed my chin. It was too large. It didn’t fit my face and poked out in a sharp point. I covered it with my hand and smiled again once I saw that my face looked much better without it. 

It only took a month for me to go back under the knife. I emerged with a small chin, much more proportionate to my face than my other had been. My dark hair fell on either side of my new feature, bringing out the new softness to my face. It was perfect. For the first time in years, I was happy with how I looked.

It was far too long before I was able to get another mod. A full two months of looking in the mirror and seeing the same, boring person day after day, except she had a cuter nose and chin. Today I’d see an even newer me though. I lay down in the padded blue chair, leaning back in it comfortably as I waited for the doctor to come in. The nurse attached the breathing hose to my nostrils and suddenly everything went dark. I awoke looking through the same eyes, however they were lit up with a new color. A bright pink replaced the dull green that had once surrounded my pupil. I smiled at myself in the glass and the pink glowed brighter. 

There was a new Fad now. The girls I had made new friends with- the same girls I could never even imagine talking to before my mods- were discussing getting it done and invited me along. I had only been hanging out with them for a week, ever since my eyes were changed, so it would be a risk to turn them down. I could be kicked out of the group. They could decide I was just an annoying, boring kid after all. So I went along with them, and by the time I got out of the operation room I was proud of my new ears. Lacey came in and wrapped one arm around my chest from behind as she toyed with one of the points on my now-elfin ears with the other hand. She told me how amazing they looked and then leaned down to kiss my cheek before whispering congratulations to me. Now, I was officially a Mod. Just like Lacey and the others. 

Lacey asked me what Mod I wanted next at lunch about three weeks later. She leaned into me before reaching across my shoulders and toying with the tip of my ear- a habit she had picked up. I had been thinking about it lately as well and my eyes dropped to my forearm without permission. Lacey saw and when she rolled my arm over she saw the scars left behind from my own attempts at body modification- a different kind of modification- at a much earlier age. Before I knew what I was saying, the words pulse tattoo had spilled out of my mouth. Her answering grin was all the go ahead I needed. While we were at the shop, instead of getting another tattoo for her collection, she sat beside me and watched as I got my first. When it was done, she ran her fingers over my sensitive flesh and the sinuous black swirls inked over my wrist and hand. She smiled widely as the swirls danced under fingers. When her fingers tickled over the inside of my wrist, the speed of the swirls ratcheted up with my pulse. She peeked up at me from the corner of her eyes and smirked. 

Two days later I was violently ill. My head was pressed against the cool cabinets next to the toilet, eyes slipping closed against the bright light of the bathroom when the door creaked open. Thinking it was my mother yet again, I started to say that I was fine. It wasn’t until Lacey sat down next to me that I realized it wasn’t her. She was smiling, just like always, but it was sadder this time. Her eyes were filled worry as she sat down beside me and looked over my face. When she asked me if I was okay, I lied and said yes, knowing she’d know it wasn’t true, before burying my overheated face in the crook of her neck. 

My sickness left me drained, with dark, heavy bags under my eyes and pasty skin. If I still had my original eye color, they’d probably be an even duller green than they already had been. I felt emotionally and physically drained, and when I did my makeup and hair, it was in a halfhearted manner and I knew it looked like utter shit. Still, when Lace saw me for the first time that day, she smiled and her new golden eyes practically glowed. I couldn’t help but smile back and let her sling an arm over my shoulders casually. 

When my skin still didn’t get it’s color back after a week of it being pale and gross, I went to the tan shop and got the Natural Glow package. I came out looking as healthy and normal as ever, even if I didn’t feel like it. Before I left the Shoppe, I stopped by the salon and got a haircut as well as a dye job. Grinning into the mirror, I ruffled my new short, blue hair, blinking my large pink eyes at myself from under my half moon bangs. I threw up again that night and as my mother kissed my forehead once she helped me into bed, I could hear her mutter something about ‘those damned chemicals’. 

I didn’t go to school the next day, or the day after that, or even the day after that. I could barely even get out of bed, much less get out of bed and go to school. The only good thing about being bedridden was that every day after school Lace came over to help me catch up on what I was missing. Today was no different. However, today I got tired faster than usual and when I sighed and pushed the books away, sick of working, Lace frowned- a rare event- and stacked the books and papers up to set them on the floor beside my bed. I halfheartedly reached out for them, making a small whine in the back of my throat, because I knew I still had a lot of work left to do if I didn’t want to fail. Lacey shushed me and made me lay down before crawling under the covers with me and pulling them up to our chins. Her long arms wrapped around my waist and her body curled around mine, pulling me into her body, almost like she was protecting me. I fell asleep that night cocooned in her warmth. 

By the time Day 5 passed of being bedridden, I was so sick of it I was fuming in anger. I forced myself to get up, put on a healthy smile, and get ready for school. I’d make it through the day even if it killed me. It turns out I would barely make it three hours and, although the day didn’t kill me, it came too close to it for comfort. 

I woke up to a loud, annoying beeping and a chattering of small voices in the distance of my conscious. I could smell chemicals- healing chemicals, not Mod chemicals. I had a sinking feeling that I knew where I was already. I flickered my eyes open and my stomach completely dropped, because I was in the hospital, just like I had thought. How I got to be here, I don’t remember. What I do remember was going to school, slipping into Literature late, and then when class was over I stood, walked out of the suffocating classroom, and just when I had spotted Lace and begun to wave, there was just darkness. An endless, weightless darkness that, now that I had escaped from it, I wish I could go back. Because it was better than whatever was going on here. Doctors and nurses rushed around my bed seconds after I had opened my eyes, checking what I assumed to be vitals and other things that were important to them but were probably just gibberish to me. When they cleared, a doctor stayed behind and tried, (read: failed), to explain that everything was fine and told me to not worry because everything would be explained soon. 

I wish they hadn’t explained. I wish they’d just shut up and let me live my life how I wanted to. Now, I had to give up my Mods. My mods. They told me I had to give up the only thing that had actually made me truly happy in ages. After my mother and father had come in to visit, the doctor had joined us and explained that I’d been in a coma for three months. Three months that my hair had grown out and faded into a pastel blue. Then he had gone on to say how I was allergic to the chemicals used in the Modification surgeries and that the only way to avoid getting sick again was to stop my Mods all together. The doctor quickly left once I threw my food tray at him.

It had been about an hour after my mom left that Lacey came bursting through the door and into my hospital room. I lifted my head from where I had it resting against my knees, which were curled up close to my chest. Her vibrant pink hair had faded into a pastel color like mine and her skin looked as if she hadn’t been to get it done in…months. I took in the frazzled look of her. Her eyes big with worry and shadowed by dark bags she had neglected to cover up with makeup. Her once perfect, manicured nails bitten down with only the chipped remains of long lasting polish on them. The same polish I’d last seen her in. She’s been a wreck for a whole three months, then? The three months that I’d been in a coma. The thought brought tears to my eyes, because Lacey was never a wreck, and yet here she was. Lace rushed to my side and, perching on my hospital bed, she wrapped her arms around me. I gripped her shirt and tugged until she was fully on the bed, lying parallel next to me with my head resting on her chest. As her hands ran up and down my back, one coming up to play with my hair as well, I let tears run down my face. 

Lacey didn’t leave that night. Or the next night. Or the five after that. She stayed with me the entire time, sleeping in my bed during the night and moving to either sit next to me during the day or in the chair when others came by. The only reason she finally left was because I had made her go home and change clothes. When I dozed off while she was gone, all I dreamed of was a familiar black void. 

By now, Lace knew everything about my condition. Including the fact that I could never get a Mod again. She smiled painfully when I got to that part and ran her fingers over my pulse tattoo, then tugged on my pointed ear. An old habit that had been forgotten about, I guess. She turned my face towards hers with light fingers and squinted, as if she were searching for something. Then she smirked, shrugged and said,

“I thought you were beautiful even before all the Mods. No big loss.”

Then she leaned in and kissed me, lips soft and warm, and I had the fleeting thought that even a life without Mods would be great as long as I had Lace with me.


End file.
